


Absolood Pleasure

by SecretSideAccount



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, BRAIN SEX, Bondage and Discipline, Captivity, Crack, Cursed, F/M, Kinda, M/M, Multi, Ood Brothel, Ood Sex Cult, Ood Smut, Other, Pillory Bed, Post-Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, Sex Swing, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sort Of, Spanking, Surprise Ending, Tenth Doctor SMUT, This is the most cursed thing I've ever written, Yes you read that right, alternate incarnation of the Master, although i am very ashamed of it actually, i think that's all for now, it seems a bit non-consensual at first but really isn't, kind of, not the Doctor's though, so good luck, surprise appearance of an old acquaintance, tagging this makes me aware of just HOW bad it is, the Tenth Doctor is horny, they're there by their own free will, unseeing tool not included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretSideAccount/pseuds/SecretSideAccount
Summary: After the events at Bad Wolf Bay, the Doctor is devastated. The TARDIS knows what he needs - as do the Ood. Who are not quite what they seem.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Ood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	Absolood Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LairdDickfruit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LairdDickfruit/gifts).



“There’s five of us now.”

“You’re-?!”

Rose nodded. Crashing waves for too long a moment, considering they only had around a minute and a half left.

“Well, my congratulations to the lucky father, then.” The Doctor gave a half-hearted nod in the direction of Mickey, who was stood several hundred metres away from them on the beach, along with Jackie and Pete. Where he should have been, _he_ , the Doctor, not Mickey the Idiot. Himself.

“No, Doctor”, Rose muttered, her voice too unsteady and the waves too loud to properly hear the words instead of reading them on her lips. “’s not Mickey’s.”

The Doctor froze, the ground feeling like it was plummeting away from under his feet (it literally was, he was still orbiting a supernova, but…well, not like that), he tried to choke out something, _anything_ , but all he managed was a whimpery little noise that he tended to make when he was lost for words, which he also tended to be rather often.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Doctor!” Rose tried to cheer him up, about to nudge him when she stopped mid-air, remembering projections across universes couldn’t be nudged. Her face fell. “Say something!”

“But…” he stammered, “…we used protection?!”

“Sure _we_ used protection, you bumbling fool!” Her smirk was back, despite the tears. “But Psi and I didn’t. No time.” Her smirk was slowly transforming into a devilish grin. The Doctor’s brain came to a grinding, squeaking halt.

“Who’s Psi?”

“The kitchen Ood. From the Impossible Planet, y’know the one-“

“K37 Gem 5”, the Doctor said mechanically, barely processing what exactly Rose was saying. She stared at him almost provocatively now, biting her tongue as it stuck out ever so slightly, as she was wont to, as though she was-

“Doctor! I’m kiddin’, you know that, right?” She burst out laughing. “It’s yours, Doctor!”

-taking the piss. That was it. He wanted to grab her right then and there, through the dimensions, through the entirety of time and space and crush his mouth against hers, and fuck it, he did, eyes closed, just went for it, and he felt something too, but it was off, odd – and when he looked, he would even say, ood. He had just snogged an Ood. How-

His eyes shot open, he was drenched in cold Time Lord sweat, slouched over his seat in the console room, an almost-finished tray of cold, lardy chips soggy with mayonnaise beside him, still sitting in the takeaway plastic bag, drool running down his chin, and a raging hard-on in his too tight pinstripe trousers.

How had it been barely two days since the Battle of Canary Wharf and…Bad Wolf Bay?

Three quarters of a strange December day with that redhead Donna Noble squeezed in between, and now…back here. Alone. Sad, disgusted with himself but hungry again – all those weren’t new sensations to him, though; he gobbled a flubbery chip – and horny. Which was also far from being a new sensation. So basically, it was all just back to default – wasn’t it?! The Time Lord, the TARDIS and the testosterone, back on their own.

Fuck.

How he wished right now the consistency of the chips and his dick could’ve been exchanged. Alas, they wouldn’t. Trying to recall the details of his dream – strangely – didn’t help.

That was when he suddenly realised the TARDIS wasn’t in flight anymore. Hadn’t been since before he woke up. The last time he looked, he had suspended her somewhere in deep space, hidden as best he could in a small nebula, but now she was resting, and clearly parked – not hovering on the edge of the known universe. But there was no distress signal, no red light, no cloister bell. Everything seemed to be in order.

He stood up groaning, and headed for the door, but not without grinding his crotch against the back rest of the seat in passing before he pulled his long coat across it to cover it, preparing for whatever might be out there. He _thought_ he was prepared.

He wasn’t.

Outside the door stood an Ood. As though it had been expecting him.

“Doctor”, the Ood spoke to him, its communication orb lighting up, “at last. We have been expecting you.” It laid an unexpectedly firm hand on the Doctor’s bony shoulder. “Come along.”

No _please_ , no _Sir_ , no gratuitous acts of courtesy – this Ood was behaving untypically.

Almost routinely, the Doctor checked it for glowing red eyes – but it didn’t have any.

“Where are we? Where are you taking me?”

He tried to rid himself of the Ood’s rather heavy hand, but the creature didn’t allow it.

“We have been expecting you. Come along”, it repeated and actually began to very insistently push the Doctor ahead.

“Now, that’s not very polite of you, you know that, right?”

The Doctor tried to scramble against the Ood’s force, but it was in vain.

So he went ahead and had a look around as they walked. He realised where he was; on the Oodsphere, the Ood’s home planet, a cold, icy, lonely, but utterly beautiful place.

The Ood basically just led him around the TARDIS, which, as the Doctor discovered now, was parked directly at the entrance of a cave in the snowy, shallow hillside. Without any explanation, the Ood shoved him into the murk. The daylight quickly became scarce, and the Ood started to hum softly, which activated the orb it was holding, making it glow a bright white. Like this, it led him deeper and deeper into the mountain, and the Doctor considered it the best strategy to just go along with it. He could ask questions later. Perhaps. In case there was a ‘later’.

Before his gloomy thoughts could take over, however, they suddenly stepped into the light; in front of them, a large, but low cave hall opened up, strewn with boulders and with several passages leading back out of it that looked just as menacing as the one from which they were stepping.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a new Ood, distinguishable from the first one by absolutely nothing, approached them and took over the Doctor.

“I shall lead you from here, Doctor”, it announced, placed its hand where the first one’s had been, and together they left the latter standing at the exit of the tunnel. “He shall stand guard.”

“Ah, thanks for the explanation”, the Doctor sneered, “it wasn’t very communicative, that one. Can _you_ perhaps tell me where we’re going? Or _why_ exactly I’m here at all?”

“ _He_ ”, the new Ood began with a heavy emphasis on the pronoun, “is only a guard. He shall see to it that you cannot find the exit alone, should you attempt to escape.”

The Doctor was liking the sound of this less and less. As far as he had known so far, the Ood were a peaceful race, but they were easily manipulated, and Dickens knows whoever was playing foul games through them this time.

“ _Who_ is your master?” he tried carefully. As he staggered across the rocky ground of the unlit tunnel this Ood had taken him into, he was painfully aware with every stumble of the still very prominent boner he was sporting and trying to keep as far away as possible from the Ood by weirdly twisting his hip.

“Who”, the Ood said ominously. “Master.”

The words echoed through the dark, and against the Doctor’s expectation of an echo, the repetitions grew, in fact, louder instead of quieter each time, mounting slowly into a mystic chant.

“Who…Master… _Who_ … _Master_ … ** _Who_** … ** _Master_** …”

And with it, out of the dark peeled eyes, dozens and dozens of glowing eyes, glowing…red. The Doctor made a leap and regretted it immediately, with the tip of his dick rubbing very uncomfortably against a seam. Then, as they proceeded, the shapes of bodies emerged from the darkness, and suddenly the Doctor realised that the eyes weren’t glowing from the inside; the red glow came from an outside source. Suddenly the tunnel ended and they stepped into a completely red-lit, low cave, much smaller than the first one and very different in its interior, too; there was furniture here, if furniture it could be called; the Doctor looked around, scanning the environment, trying to make things out in the red twilight. The ‘furniture’ was mainly different types of odd-looking constructions, probably wooden, most of them, as well as heavy iron rings on the roughly hewn cave walls.

The Ood crowded around them, and their chant fluidly changed into “Doctor”; it ebbed and flowed around him, and he could feel it ever deeper, until it was in his bones and seemed to take over his very brain waves. It was then that he realised the red light was the only type of light in here. No translator spheres. And the furniture, he suddenly felt, _knew_ , wasn’t practically…furniture. He was in a dungeon. And the Ood had locked him onto their telepathic circuit. He could understand their chants, which were not usually audible to humanoid species, and feel their thoughts. They were humming through his flesh, and the very air was vibrating with their presence. He felt like now was the time to ask questions, but just as he was about to open his mouth, an Ood stepped forth from the circle and approached him.

“Welcome, Doctor”, it said – or rather, _he_ ; the Doctor was suddenly keenly aware of the Ood’s existence as a hive-minded all-male self-cloning species, and one of the oldest life forms in the universe. “We have been expecting you.”

He was about to remark that he had heard these exact same words often enough now, but the Ood had not finished.

“We are known in the outside world only to serve, to obey, the perfect slave race. But we are not Tivolian rats.” The Doctor sensed a distinct disgust in the Ood’s utterance, despite his not actually using a voice to transmit this information; the Doctor realised that what he was ‘hearing’, was _made_ to hear, was the same soothing, sing-song voice the translator spheres gave the Ood, but that was only due to his limited perspective. The true voice of the Ood was something way different, way…bigger. And the disgust he felt was shared among the lot of them.

“To be the perfect slave, you have to know what a master desires. To know what a master desires, you have to be the perfect master.”

At that moment, this logic made complete sense to the Doctor. He noticed himself growing unfocused; something in the Ood’s humming that still surrounded him – almost like a cage, he remarked to himself – seemed to penetrate through his skin into his blood, numbing his senses, almost inebriating him and…arousing him. As uncomfortable as he was when he first noticed, his coat had slid aside from the Ood’s hand on his shoulder, and he could see his erection straining against his flies. Suddenly he realised that the Ood could hear his thoughts as much as he could hear theirs. And he wanted to stop thinking about it, but that only made him think about it more.

“Good Doctor”, the Ood facing him suddenly said to him, and the Doctor thought he heard a low purr in his voice. “You are perceptive, Time Lord.” The creature stepped closer to him. “We have brought you here only for comfort. To take your mind off grief. To take care of your body.”

For a second, because after centuries that was simply how his mind was wired, the word ‘body’ equalled ‘corpse’ in his mind, and the Doctor tensed. But then, he became aware of the true meaning of the Ood’s words – which didn’t necessarily help him relax.

“Give yourself, Doctor”, the Ood said calmly. “Give yourself over.”

The Doctor felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, along with his eyebrows, which had always had a life of their own. He could smell the Ood. He could smell…brain. Fresh brain. The Ood smelled of _fresh brain_. Not that the Doctor had ever smelled brain before; he just knew that this was the smell. Not that it didn’t make sense – seeing as, as he perceived in the dim red light, the Ood gathered here around him all seemed to be carrying something in their stretched-out hands that wasn’t translator spheres but…brains. _Second_ brains. _Exterior_ brains. Their smell was not like anything the Doctor had ever smelled before but…it was a good smell. New, exciting, moist and intelligent.  
Suddenly, something soft stroked over the Doctor’s tented trousers. It was the Ood’s black-gloved hand. The one Ood that had led him here now closed his grip around the nape of the Doctor’s neck and led him deeper into the dungeon cave. It was only now that the Doctor realised that this wasn’t any old dungeon. It was a sex dungeon. He was, it seemed, in an Ood brothel – or something of that sort at least, because he knew these Ood weren’t here for pay. This was what they enjoyed. They were all of them here by choice.

The group of Ood had dispersed, but they had begun to chant again, except that now the words being repeated were “give yourself over”.

And what happened now, the Doctor knew, was something none of his human companions would ever understand; no matter how open-minded or intelligent, they were still too limited. Only alone as he was now, he was free to admit to himself that he enjoyed this. He wanted it. And suddenly, he grew aware of the fact that he had come here intentionally. His sleeping mind – and didn’t the sleeping mind usually know you better than the waking one – had communicated to the TARDIS to take him here. Maybe he had heard whispers about it in some shady corner of the universe, but he knew that he knew. That this was why he had come here all along. He needed it. And damn, he needed it bad.

The Ood with the hand on his neck increased the pressure as he led the Doctor to a broad, dark bed with high posts and bars between them, as well as something that looked distinctly like a pillory, and the Time Lord winced like a hurt puppy, but in the not-so-secrecy of his mind, he enjoyed it. The Ood knew that, they felt it, and that was enough. The Ood behind him thrust him forward, and he flopped onto the bed, and learned the hard way that it didn’t have a mattress, but a slab of polished magnetite.

He turned over onto his back and scrambled to the top of the bedframe. The head Ood, the one that had spoken to him, now stepped up to the side of the bed, tall and dark against the red walls of the cave, as several other Ood closed back in as well.

“Our natural form is nakedness”, the Ood revealed to the Doctor. “We were the first race in this universe to engage in sexual acts only for pleasure. We are the masters.”

And the others took over the last words and began to chant them.

“We are the masters… _We are the masters_ … ** _We are the masters_** …”

Supine on the cold stone surface, the Doctor shivered despite his suit and coat. Still, they all felt way too tight by now.

“Show me”, he egged on the Ood, “take my mind off things.” He sprawled out. The Ood by the bed leaned over him and ran his gloved hands slowly up the Doctor’s jacket-wrapped chest, gripped the collar and ripped it apart violently, the buttons springing to all sides.

“Oi!” the Doctor complained, sitting up momentarily, but the Ood simply pushed him back down.

“Silence.”

The Ood’s gloved hand then proceeded to the Doctor’s flies, ghosted over them once, only to then rip them open in exactly the same manner as his shirt. Two other Ood assisted in pulling his trousers off him entirely; his shoes, he noticed, had already been taken off.

“Shut your eyes, Doctor. Give yourself over.”

He had no option but to obey; the voices in his head were too strong. At once, something moist but tight wrapped around his wrists, immobilising his arms; he could only guess it was a couple of Ood tentacles. Something wet touched the soles of his feet, slithering up and down, up and down, several times, it felt like too fast slugs, then something wrapped around his toes. His eyes shot open. Two of the Ood at his feet had slipped their tentacles over his feet and taken his toes into their mouths that were covered by the fleshy appendages. They had shoved his feet so far into their mouths, his toes touched the far backs of their throats. They were warm and wet, like undulating, moist socks. Suddenly, the cold slab of stone was forgotten and he felt indeed very comfortable. The other Ood all around him were closing in and proceeded to rub him in their brains; they slithered and slid them all over the surface of his body, slug sensation at hyper speed; they left an odd, slimy film on his skin. They touched him everywhere – except around his perky Time Lord nipples and his majestic Time Lord dick, which would resemble the citadel of Gallifrey – if it had only had one tower, and if that tower had too much foreskin. It actually did remind him of something, and had he had the humility to admit it, as well as the memory power to actually recall it, he would have realised it was a Phrygian cap, the red bonnets last used in the French revolution as a signifier of freedom (and then some millennia later again in a strange aberration of fashion by a renegade platoon of Cybermen, but that was of lesser importance right now).

After they were done lathering him in brains, the crowd of Ood suddenly parted, and through came, well, an Ood. But not any old Ood. The head Ood. Quite literally. As weird as all Ood looked – this one looked weirder. His actual head looked like a brain even on the outside. He was taller than the other Ood and wasn’t wearing a black uniform like them but white, flowing robes; he was the Ood Elder, or, as he liked to call himself sometimes, Ood Alpha.

“It will be an honour to finally pleasure a Time Lord again”, he communicated to the Doctor when he halted beside the bed, if a bed it could be called. The Doctor really wanted to ask what exactly the “again” meant, but he couldn’t string the right words together as he watched, with his head tilted sideways, as a group of Ood unwrapped Ood Alpha from his robes. Ood Alpha basically looked like the most ripped dude ever, with a few small but significant differences; he was naturally completely hairless and his skin was moon-coloured, he had no nipples and no navel, and his groin area couldn’t be described as anything other than _alien_. There was something at the centre that looked remotely like a penis – but with an emphasis on ‘remotely’. Because upon closer inspection, it looked more like one of the Ood’s facial tentacles, except about ten times as girthy, and, in its apparently aroused state, twice as long. Even in the red twilight, the Doctor could see it was a different colour from the rest of the Ood’s body, pulsing in a dark purple, and slightly _glowing_. On top of that, it seemed to have one major advantage over human (and Time Lord) dicks: it could be controllably, consciously moved, on its own, rather more like a very large finger. On its sides, there were two shorter, thick tentacly things that – well, yes, they did indeed have small suction cups on them, two per appendage. These tentacles as well, it seemed, could be intentionally moved, as the Ood spread them a little when he noticed the Doctor was admiring them.

“There is another pleasant feature to my body”, the Ood announced, before raising up his tentacle cock and, as the Doctor watched, seemed to _open_ its tip like a flower bud, and what would be the petals were about a dozen of approximately toe-length separate tentacles, like those of a sea anemone. And, wiggling them around, Ood Alpha pushed out what was obviously the actual tip of his alien dick: an ultraviolet-glowing, pulsing orb. He let a finger wander over it, teasingly, then retracted it, closed the tentacle crown and uttered:

“If you are good, you shall receive.”

The Doctor could only assume that he meant the full length and amount of features of his super-advanced dick. The Doctor’s own member was, at this point, straining flat against his stomach, and he was writhing on the stone slab, his feet still being enveloped by Ood mouths.

“Step away now and watch, brethren”, Ood Alpha ordered. And he was obeyed at once. There was a soft authority in his voice that made the Doctor drool. His feet were released, and so were his wrists. But he didn’t have time to enjoy that freedom for long. Ood Alpha picked him up by his scrawny shoulders and forced him forward on his knees on the slab until he was kneeling right in front of the pillory. Two Ood standing by opened it, and Alpha grabbed him by the nape of his neck and shoved him forward and down, positioning him right for his neck and wrists to sit in the holes. Then they lowered the upper bar and locked it. Ood Alpha walked around to face the Doctor and held his chin.

“You will accommodate my brain, Doctor”, he said, and before the Doctor even had time to wonder what he meant, Alpha produced his hind brain, which, as every other part of him, too, was larger than those of all the other Ood, laid it on his flat hand, used the other hand to force open the Doctor’s mouth by pressing his long, hard fingers between his jaws, and let his brain slide into the Doctor’s oral cavity. The Time Lord sputtered, gagged, tried to fight the wood around his limbs and the Ood’s hand, but it was useless. He had tears in his eyes at once, and he needed to swallow. Once he did, Ood Alpha groaned softly in his head; the undulations of the Doctor’s throat around his brain obviously pleasured him. So the Doctor simply repeated his action, trying to close his mouth around the brain, only leaving a small hole for the umbilical cord, careful not to bite down. Alpha grabbed his cockatoo-like tuft of hair and dug his fingers into it. After swallowing a couple more times, each of which made the Ood elicit a low mental grunt, Alpha pushed down his head and the brain slipped back out of his mouth, followed by long threads of spittle. The Doctor gasped for air, while Alpha raised his tentacle cock and gave him, at first tentative, then comparable with a firm backhand, a couple of rough alien dick slaps across his face that left his sideburned cheeks burning. Ood Alpha then vanished from his field of vision, and a few seconds later, the Doctor felt something warm, slimy and soft nudge against his hole; it was clearly the brain again. The Ood seemed to use it to lube him up. The Doctor weakly dropped his chin against the black wood of the pillory. Alpha started humming, and the brain vibrated and glowed against the Doctor’s arsehole. That alone made him loose enough for Alpha to push two fingers in right away; he thrust them in and out a few times, pushed in two more, and then, very much to the Doctor’s surprise…inserted his actual brain.

“Do not be worried, Doctor – the brain is rather more robust than it looks, as is the umbilical cord. It will not tear.”

There was a flicker of gratitude in the Doctor for this information, but overall he was a bit too overwhelmed with feeling brain in his ass for the first time ever. It did, in all honesty, feel a little like he had to take a dump, but also completely different, thanks to how extremely slippery and oddly dense it was. Alpha drew it back out by its cord and let the Doctor’s sphincter do its own work in pulling it in deeper again a couple of times before the Ood decided the Time Lord was now slimed enough on the inside and ready for the taking. He popped the brain out and placed it on the Doctor’s rump, from where it slid down the groove of his spine to the lowest point of his bent back.

“I will now penetrate you, Doctor”, Ood Alpha announced, placing his large pale hands on the Doctor’s protruding hipbones, lined himself up with the Time Lordly arsehole and entered him. The Doctor keened, and Alpha moaned, and it seemed as though the whole cave joined in and eventually there was one constant, loud, horny hum filling the Doctor’s mind. Once the Ood’s member was fully sheathed inside the Time Lord, the hum got a little less benumbing. Against the Doctor’s expectations, Ood Alpha didn’t pull back out, however, but instead began to move his dick tentacle inside the Doctor, nudging all the right places, but, as if it knew exactly what it was doing, sparing his prostate. Meanwhile, the Doctor felt something attaching to his balls, but it couldn’t be the Ood’s hands, since those were still resting on his hips. It was then that he remembered the suction-cupped side tentacles. As he was still getting to terms with that thought, the suction cups attached themselves to his sensitive sack skin and began to tug and massage him gently while Ood Alpha plastered himself against the Doctor’s back – the brain between them made a worryingly squidgy noise – and reached around him to pinch and twist his nipples. The Time Lord yelped and the sound echoed back from the walls. With the side tentacles kneading his balls, the writhing, heavy drag of Alpha’s cock inside him made the Doctor’s own dick weep desperately. It was probably for the best he was physically incapable of seeing his prick right now, because with the amount of excess foreskin he could call his own (time travel takes its tolls on the most unexpected of…parts) it looked more like a flesh-coloured, dripping Adherent of the Repeated Meme than a sexy sex organ. His only valid justification was that all of this was so drastically unlike the countless times Rose had pegged him, even though they had admittedly tried out a variety of Bad Dragon dildos (the Doctor had a lifelong 75% discount with them for reasons he would not like to divulge), and he had, more than once, not been capable of walking for a few days after – which would one time almost have led to the extinction of an entire race – but this was a universe of different. The Ood cock was gigantic and hard, but soft and pliable at the same time, and the fact that it made coordinated movements was just…oof. The Doctor had a thought that he might be ruined for sex with humans (or Time Lords) forever after this experience. Only able to get off in Ood brothels forever after. He had heard stories about people who had ended up like that back at the Academy, but his conceited ass hadn’t believed them. Alpha reminded him with a hard nipple pinch to remain concentrated. The suction cups squeezed his balls. Still, however, Alpha avoided his prostate. That tease of an Ood.

“Do not let your impatience distract you, Doctor.”

The Doctor winced when the Ood cock brushed very closely past his prostate, tried to wiggle his arse in that direction, but Alpha was very aware of his intentions. He even believed to hear a quiet, mischievous and yet otherworldly giggle run through the crowd of Ood minds in his thoughts, a not insignificant part of it coming from Alpha himself.

Suddenly, the Ood withdrew his member from the Gallifreyan butthole.

“This seems a less than ideal position to warrant your lasting attention and satisfaction, Doctor”, Alpha considered. “Unlock him.”

Two Ood approached and opened the pillory, and the Doctor got to remove his sore limbs and neck. He immediately dropped a hand down to his weeping penis and was about to release a groan of relief when his arms were harshly gathered behind his back and he was practically torn from the stone slab bed.

“You shall be suspended.”

The Doctor was unsure of what that was supposed to mean, but he wasn’t left to wonder long. Before he could properly think about it, four Ood had lifted him from the floor and deposited him on a swing-like, flat leather hammock about half a metre above the ground, and then proceeded to, ere he could protest, raise his arms and legs and fasten them with cuffs that hung from heavy iron chains from the cave ceiling. Like that, all fours in the air, he was set up for Ood Alpha to return to his wet business with the Doctor’s rectum. Right now, pretty much nothing about the Time Lord was raging like fire, apart from his boner perhaps. His whole bellybutton was filled with precum and his dick felt hot, sticky and miserable, literally crying for relief.

“Your wish will be granted soon, Doctor. Be at peace.”

That last part seemed highly ironic, given the situation. But Alpha sure enough stepped up to him now, and he had something in his hand that hadn’t been there before. Only when it was already swooping into use, the Doctor recognised it as a short sort of riding crop. Split seconds later, it came down on his ass cheek with a burning snap. He cried out like the little drama queen that he was, while his whole subconscious was screaming for more. And more he got; swats right and left until his arse must have been as red as the Gallifreyan evening sky. Every time the pain shot through his body and made his cock twitch, he sensed a deep, satisfied united hum from the Ood. Then, at last, Alpha let off and dropped his head down to the Time Lord’s crotch without preamble. A couple of his tentacles wrapped around his dick, while one or two sneaked to the tip and slid into and under his foreskin and rubbed over his frenulum. The Doctor had his head thrown back and pressed against the leather, making muffled noises every time the Ood appendages touched a particularly sensitive spot. All of a sudden, the tentacles that were by now even more slippery than as of usual grappled the foreskin and stretched it all the way, then slipped inside it, three, four of them, and tickled and wiggled across the tip of his dick in a way that had him in a limbo between wanting to burst out laughing or cumming. He willed away both of his instincts, remembering the time he had, on a bored night in the TARDIS when his new body had still been _very_ new (and with it all that foreskin), tried to accommodate a few old coins in it and _tie a knot_ to keep them in place as a sort of, well, purse (not that he needed one, but part of the reason he didn’t have one was that he never knew where to safely put it) – the first part of the experiment had, astonishingly, worked; the second had not and would almost have ended in a rather painful experience that would’ve ensured him at least a couple days at the Sisters of the Infinite Schism. Suddenly he didn’t quite feel like cumming anymore.

That didn’t last long, however. With another swat on his backside, he was retrieved into the Now.

“You must not be distracted, Doctor. Give yourself over.”

And once again, the whole crowd of Ood, still watching from the shadows, fell into a telepathic chant.

“Give yourself over. Give yourself over. Give yourself over…”

It helped. As the waves of the chant poured through his body, the Doctor finally felt himself truly relax. Or at least 98% of him. The 2% that, rather luckily, did not, were now given a few rather rough strokes and tugs by Alpha’s tentacles, then released back against his belly with a slap, while the Ood straightened up, inched closer between the Time Lord’s legs and finally realigned with his butthole and buried himself inside it. This time, in his increasingly fucked-out state, the feeling of being filled truly overwhelmed the Doctor. It felt like there wasn’t any room left inside him for his organs due to too much Ood cock. He let out a punched-out wheeze. But that wasn’t even it yet. While simultaneously wrapping a hand around his prick and the side tentacles attaching back to his balls, the Doctor could feel Ood Alpha’s member _extending_ inside of him. He could feel its head opening, the little tentacles hooking themselves painlessly but firmly into his intestinal walls (probably they, too, had ever-so-tiny suction cups) – and then, the bulbous, glowing, actual head pushed out, illuminating the Doctor from inside – he gasped incredulously and very hornily when he got a _visual_ of how deep the Ood dick was inside him – and sliding to finally, _finally_ touch his prostate. And it didn’t just touch it. It was locked in place for a reason, and that reason was that now, Ood Alpha bent forward ever so slightly, and as he was jerking the Doctor off and his sucky genital parts were massaging his balls, the orb head of his penis started pounding against the Doctor’s prostate at a pace that sent the prostate owner into overstimulation within seconds. It was as though his prostate was being used as a punching bag. Any pneumatic drill would have gone pale with envy. The Doctor meanwhile would, had he not been severely under-lit at the moment, have looked like a boiled crab. He definitely felt like one – minus the part of his cells basically exploding, never mind that. However, something else was definitely about to explode. The Doctor clamped his eyes shut in ecstasy, only semi-conscious at this point. The Ood pulsing in his mind became completely overwhelming, and he barely noticed another aura entering in there, only something distinctly feminine, stimulating. The Ood pulse wave crashed down over him, Alpha folded himself on top of him and spilled something deep, deep into him that felt like ice-cold sea gooseberries, so much the Doctor sensed it gushing out of his arsehole within split seconds, and at the same time something, some _one_ enfolded his mouth into moist softness and he cummed so hard his alien seed blew his slobbery foreskin back entirely and hit himself and the one on top of him in the face. Actually, had there _not_ been anyone on top of him, it would’ve shot straight up his right nostril.

Who _was_ on top of him?! Because it was definitely no Ood. He jerked his eyes open while he could feel Alpha extending his tentacles all across his tummy, his Ood cock still buried miles inside him, to slobber up his cum. And there, on top of him was-

A woman. An unearthly pretty, ginger woman. She was standing by his left side, now that she had released his mouth again, and had her hand on his heaving chest, fingers splayed, gazing down on him as if she wanted to eat him whole. To support that message, she trailed a long-nailed finger up between his collarbones, gathering the cum that had landed in the vale at the bottom of his neck and licking it off her finger, never breaking eye contact. 

“Who are you?” the Doctor asked, still utterly benumbed and moony.

“ _Almost_ right, boy”, she replied in a distinctly American drawl, while taking him by his tragically-still-not-ginger quiff and pulling him up close towards her with a fiendish grin. “The full question is, ‘who am I to _you_?’”

“Then, um, who _am_ I to you?”

“Dumbass, still and always.” She groaned in uttermost annoyance. “You have to ask ‘who are _you_ to _me_ ’. Fuck, you really know how to ruin an entrance.”

“Wh- who are you to me, then?” He whimpered as she meanly pulled his hair.

“I am your Mistress”, she purred, “but you may be more used to referring to me as your…”

The Doctor gasped.

“… _Master?!_ ”


End file.
